The Golden Maze
Act I To the Director of Municipal Works: The survey markers for the southern boundary are set. The ground holds. Jing Zhu wiped the coroner’s slate with a rag that had seen better decades, the chalk dust settling into the creases of his knuckles. He was forty-two, and the spring flood had turned the Canton delta into a soup of mulberry leaves and silt, making the path to the old market...
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